Rick stood under the hot spray of the shower, letting it wash away the dirt and blood. It was a daily routine for him by now: spend hours each day laboring outside the walls of Alexandria, getting filthy dirty, come home to wash it all off, sleep, and repeat. He and his people had defeated the herd two weeks ago, and they were all hard at work repairing their homes and the damaged walls. It had been Michonne's idea to park cars along the outside of the wall, strategically placing them to form a maze of sorts, and also to dig trenches in spots. The walkers were too simple-minded to avoid these obvious obstacles, so it would go a long way towards protecting their home. He was out there every day with Michonne, as they both pitched in to get the work done and lift the spirits of the people of their community.

"Dad?" Carl's voice called from the direction of the bathroom door.

"Yeah, in the shower," he called back.

"Sorry, I just can't find Judith's diapers."

"I think she has another box down in the basement."

"'Kay, thanks. After I change her, I'm going to take her out to the backyard to play." The sound of the bathroom door closing followed. I sure hope there's some down there, Rick thought. Is it possible to potty-train an eleven-month old? We might have to if we can't find more soon. If anyone could do the job, it was probably Carl. His way with his younger sister was practically magical; he could calm her down or get her to cooperate when no one else could.

Thoughts of Carl inevitably turned Rick's mind to his son's injury, and what he narrowly missed. It could have been so much worse, Rick thought as he rubbed shampoo into his hair. The bullet grazing his face like that. To come so close to being shot in the face and dying, only to come away with a flesh wound. It was a miracle that Carl had been spared from further injury or even death. When Dr. Cloyd had declared him healthy and released him, Rick and Michonne had hugged each other tightly, they were so happy to be able to bring him home.

He lathered soap onto a washcloth and scrubbed at his skin. It had felt good to have her warm body pressed against his when they had hugged. He wanted to do it again, feel that alluring mixture of soft skin and hard and lean muscle, but he didn't want to make things awkward between them. She was too important to him to risk pushing her away with overt advances.

Still, he couldn't deny that his mind was turning to her more and more these days. He had always known she was beautiful, but after nearly losing everything he held dear, he had begun to look at her in another light. His sessions with Dr. Cloyd also had something to do with it, he supposed. It all made so much damned sense when he sat down to talk things out with her. Everything that had been weighing him down, Lori's death, the insanity with Jessie, it was all being cleared from his mind, slowly but surely. As these layers of sorrow were stripped away, he was able to see with fresh eyes the one who had been there all along: Michonne. The only thing he couldn't figure out was what to do about it without ruining everything between them.

He broke away from these ruminations when he realized the penis he had been cleaning with the washcloth was now quite erect. Yes, prolonged thoughts of her tended to have this effect on him, as if he were some young stud and not a father of two children now rapidly approaching middle age. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to indulge a bit, pretending that the pressure of the shower spray was really her hands on his back, the grip of his wet hand around his cock was really her slick pussy. He worked his hand over his length. Increasing the speed of his wrist, he thought of how smooth and soft her flawless skin would feel pressed against his body. He would lift her up and push her back to the shower wall, feel her legs wrap around his waist. He leaned one forearm against the tile, imagining himself thrusting into her over and over as he pressed her against the wall.

What if I went to her right now? He asked himself. Slowing his strokes, he played with the idea for a long moment. Would she turn me away? Say I'm crazy? Or does she want this, too?

%%%%%%%

Michonne was in her own room, lying on her bed and wrapped in a towel, having just finished getting freshly showered herself. She knew Rick was going to get cleaned up, too, so she had taken a quick shower to ensure she didn't use all the hot water. She had hoped the shower would help her to relax and let go of the low-key desire that had been threatening to overtake her all afternoon, but it had not helped. It had started when she was watching Rick digging trenches outside the wall. The day was mercilessly hot, and he had stripped off his shirt for the work. The sight of his chest and belly, well-muscled as they had become, bare and sheened with sweat, had caused her own body temperature to rise. She had observed him for quite some time in an out of the way spot where she didn't think he'd notice her. Increasingly, she had found her thoughts turning to him over the last two weeks. They had defended their home together and were now helping to rebuild it together. Practically every moment of their day was spent with one another. They flirted often, and a few times, she had felt the heat of Rick's gaze on her back side as she walked away. She had played with the idea of making a move, but she was hesitant to act on her desire. If he didn't really feel the same way, their relationship would become awkward and strained. Still, she thought, no harm in dreaming a little bit. She pulled open her towel and ran her fingertips over her breasts. Gently squeezing her nipples, she pretended the pleasure came from Rick's lips sucking them into his mouth. One hand trailed down the taut muscles of her belly and stroked her womanhood. She had been wet all day, and it was a relief to finally touch herself. She rubbed her clit gently. Bringing her other hand down, she dipped her fingers into her pussy, curling them to press her G-spot. Behind her closed eyes, she imagined Rick's long, hard dick was inside her, fucking her relentlessly.

A soft knock came at her bedroom door. She immediately stilled her hand. "Who is it?" she called.

"Rick," came the answer. "I want to... to talk to you. Are you busy?"

She looked down at herself, naked and damp with her towel spread out beneath her on the bed. A wicked idea came into her head. Fuck it, she thought impetuously, and said, "Come in."

He opened the door and stepped in, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. When he saw her state of undress, he froze, his eyes wide in disbelief. Yet, slowly a smile spread across his face. He stuck his head out the door and looked both ways down the hallway to make sure no one was coming, then closed and locked the door behind him.

"Care to join me?" she asked with a coquettish grin.

"Fuck, yes," Rick replied gruffly. He dropped his own towel to the floor and swept her up in his arms.